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And thuswise doth Sweet-Thought assuage

The storms of poignant grief that rage

In lovers’ breasts.

I give to thee

This precious boon, and verily,

If thou my next gift valuest less,

Reproach be thine for thanklessness.

Soft-Speech my next gift hath for name,

Which many a man, and many a dame,

Have found of great avail; for all

To whom the pains of love befall,

Beyond aught else desire to hear

Their passion talked of. Proof most clear

Hereof assuredly we see

Through her who sang thus merrily:

‘I am,’ saith she, ‘in joyous mind.

Whene’er I hear sweet words and kind,

Exalt my love, for whosoe’er

Singeth his praises, kills my care.’

Of Soft-Speech knew she all the ways

And secrets, and had made essays

Therein, full many a time.

Choose thou,

From out your fellows, one ye trow

For wise and faithful, and to him

Pour forth thine heart when all abrim

’Tis filled with love, for comfort great

It giveth to communicate

To some dear friend one’s hopes and fears,

From whom, when all around appears

Hopeless, some ease we yet may find:

Together may ye give your mind